


A Dragon's Wish

by Seek_Greatness



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_Greatness/pseuds/Seek_Greatness
Summary: When a prodigal star returns home from a long journey he is surprised by what awaits. Angered by the actions of traitorous snakes and determined to see justice for those wronged, he heads into the Dragon's Den. How will the fate of Westeros be changed by his sudden return? And with The Long Night creeping closer can this Mourning Star help bring the Dawn? House Dayne OC. Season 7-8 AU
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen/Original Male Character(s), Grey Worm/Missandei, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 26
Kudos: 30





	1. Dragonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a prodigal star returns home from a long journey he is surprised by what awaits. Angered by the actions of traitorous snakes and determined to see justice for those wronged, he heads into the Dragon's Den. How will the fate of Westeros be changed by his sudden return? And with The Long Night creeping closer can this Mourning Star help bring the Dawn? House Dayne OC. Season 7-8 AU

* * *

# A Dragon's Wish

### Chapter 1: Dragonstone

Dragonstone.

Long before it flew the banners of the black crowned stag within the fiery heart of R'hllor it was home of the greatest dynasty Westeros had ever seen.

House Targaryen.

A House of Dragons.

A house of Kings and Queens. A house of Rogue Princes and Defiant Princesses. A house of Legendary Knights and Pious Maidens.

A house that lost everything and nearly went extinct because of the actions of two people.

A Mad King and his Silver Prince.

Luckily, two dragons survived. A young prince and his baby sister. Saved by the actions of loyal men. And while the young prince would prove to be his father's son through and through, an ailment which cost him his life. The princess would prove different.

She flourished where most would languish.

Persevered where most would give up.

Thrived where most would whither.

Her journey was a long one, filled with heartbreak and consternation. But also glory and preeminence. Starting as nothing more than a bargaining chip, a brood mare. Hardship molded her into a conqueror, a liberator.

A Queen.

Now, after spending the entirety of her young life across the Narrow Sea. She has finally returned.

To the place her ancestors fled to when a young maiden named Daenys had a powerful prophetic dream, showing the destruction of Valyria by fire.

To the place where Aegon Targaryen began to turn his dream of uniting a war-torn continent under the banner of one ruler into a reality.

To the place where she was born.

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen has finally returned to Dragonstone.

However, she didn't have much time to soak in the feeling of finally being home for there was much to do.

Currently, she and most of her allies were in the Chamber of the Painted Table looking over said chamber's namesake. The Painted Table dominates the room, it is carved in the shape of Westeros and engraved with its major cities and landmarks.

They had been going over plans for close to an hour now. Barely getting anything of significance done. It was difficult to come up with anything that everyone would agree on and tempers were starting to flare.

Away from the Painted Table near the balcony, in the front of the room is Daenerys.

She stands there observing and listening to her council as they speak on which course of action they should take. She and her hand spoke briefly on a plan before meeting with her new allies, he assured her he had it under control. Although he didn't get the chance to go into great detail before the war council began. She liked what she heard of it and agreed to go along with what little she did know. Though she did ask him not to start with it as she wanted to hear the opinions of her new council on what they should do first.

She remembers Tyrion telling her that that is what his father Tywin use to do. And while she loathes the man for the crimes he committed against her family, none would deny his ability to rule. Ser Barristan once told her while her father was the one who sat on the Iron Throne, it was Tywin who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms during his time as Hand.

During that time Westeros prospered.

If she is to become the greatest Queen Westeros has ever seen she must learn from those that ruled before her. However, it was difficult to just sit back and listen when all they did was bicker like children and take subtle shots at one another. Hearing Lady Olenna make another cutting, though amusing, remark about one of the sand snakes Daenerys lets out a small huff through her nose. Glancing slightly behind her to look at her trusted knight and Lord Commander of her Queensguard the Legendary Ser Barristan Selmy.

Nicknamed Barristan the Bold for his actions at the age of 10 when he wore borrowed armor to appear as a mystery knight in a tourney. He is a knight and man of great acclaim, who's accomplishments overshadow any before him.

Even now far past his prime, at an advanced age he is still one of, if not the greatest swordsman in all the seven kingdoms. As he looks back at his Queen his face remains stoic and solemn, though his eyes hold a subtle amusement in them.

He knows he is of little help here, planning a war. While a deadly warrior, perhaps the deadliest in history, and a skilled commander he isn't much for the logistical aspects of it all. Not to mention, he can only imagine the sharp response the Queen of Thorns has ready to throw his way should he speak his mind. She was nearly a decade older than him and her mind and tongue were both still sharper than Valyrian Steel.

Seeing the amusement in his eyes Daenerys' own eyes narrow slightly. She can't quite stop the smirk from appearing on her face but quickly removes it before turning her eyes back to her allies. She feels she's heard enough and prepares to take control of the conversation.

"If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day." Spoke Yara Greyjoy.

Yara Greyjoy is a fierce woman who was raised as the heiress of the Iron Islands since her two older brothers were killed in the Iron Island's failed rebellion and her younger brother Theon was taken as a ward to discourage any further action from her father. After the assassination of her father, Yara laid claim to the Iron Islands, but when the ironborn chose her uncle Euron, who murdered her father Balon, as their next king, she and Theon fled with a portion of the Iron Fleet and their loyal followers. They went to Meereen and allied with Daenerys, forsaking the reaving and raping ways of old in order to take back what is rightfully hers.

"If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms." Countered Tyrion Lannister, her Hand of the Queen. He was a clever man who uses his wit and intellect to overcome the prejudice he faces for being a dwarf.

"It's called war. If you don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding." Snapped Ellaria Sand. Ellaria was their Dornish ally. While Daenerys is not sure if she is truly the Princess of Dorne or not it doesn't matter for she has pledged the Martell army and Dorne's fleet to their cause.

"We know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here." Tyrion responded. A serious look on his face as he all but glares at Ellaria and continues, his voice filled with emotion.

"Myrcella was innocent."

"She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters." Ellaria bites back. Venom in her eyes as she stares back at Tyrion. "My greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you-

"That's enough!" Daenerys cuts in, tired of listening to their bickering.

"Lord Tyrion is Hand of the Queen, you will treat him with respect." She commands, looking Ellaria dead in the eyes as she walks forward and leans slightly on the Painted Table in front of her.

"I am not here to be Queen of the ashes." She says, looking into the eyes of everyone around her.

"That's very nice to hear." Sounds off the old venerable voice of Olenna Tyrell. She is Lady of Highgarden and perhaps Daenerys' most important ally. She is an elderly woman who has been a master of court politics, plotting and intrigue par excellence throughout her life. More famously known as the Queen of Thorns for her cutting, barbed comments and House Tyrell's sigil being a Rose.

"Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter." She continues, shaking her head slightly.

"The common people loved her, the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children, really. They won't obey you...unless they fear you." She finishes her thought looking at her new Queen.

Daenerys stares back, nodding her head. "I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your counsel." She begins before looking at all of her new allies.

"I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing." She finishes strongly, looking into the eyes of The Lady of the Reach.

"Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne?" Replies the Queen of Thorns. "By asking nicely?" She finishes showcasing, once again, that sarcastic tongue she is famous for.

Daenerys glances at her Hand before responding "We will lay siege to the capital surrounding the city on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her armies or the people." She finishes before stepping back and looking to Tyrion, allowing her Hand to speak of his plan.

While the Dragon Queen and her council speak of their plans for war, her new Master of Whispers, Varys, is currently in one of the many hidden passages of Dragonstone reading a letter of great interest he just received from one of his little birds in the south.

Lord Varys or simply Varys as he prefers to be called, is a dangerous man. Not for his martial prowess, nor his name or money.

But because of knowledge. Or rather his ability to obtain it.

Secrets are Varys's trade, and his skill at acquiring them has earned him a reputation for being seemingly omniscient. If you have a dirty little secret there is a good chance that Varys knows it.

Nicknamed The Spider, he has an intricate web of spies at his disposal known as his little birds. They are made up of lowborn orphan children who are taught to read and write.

One of those little birds it seems has stumbled upon something major involving the hierarchy in Dorne. It seems the lords of the south here not happy with a bastard woman and her kinslaying children as their leaders.

Surprising I know.

The most powerful houses in Dorne met in Sunspear recently to discuss who should take over Dorne with House Martell seemingly extinct. Even more shocking and the part that truly intrigues him the most is who was chosen.

The Mourning Star. The Sword of the Morning. The Hero of the StepStones.

Ser Rhevan Dayne.

A man thought dead. He disappeared 4 years ago along with Dawn, the ancestral sword of House Dayne, and hasn't been heard from since.

Until now it seems.

The son of Ashara Dayne.

His father unknown. Even Varys, for as long as his webs reach, couldn't figure out the identity of the man. All he was able to find out is that the man is of Valyrian descent. Whether he is from behind the Black Walls of Volantis or the beautiful Island city of Elyria or even some pillow slave from Lys that caught the lady's eye on a trip there, no one knows.

What is known is that Rhevan Dayne before his disappearance was regarded by most as the greatest warrior in Westeros. Not surprising given the fact that he earned the right to wield the legendary sword Dawn. His prowess with a blade is often compared to that of his legendary uncle Arthur Dayne.

He was beloved throughout the Seven Kingdoms, especially in Dorne, for his chivalry, bravery, and high moral fiber. The boy had high expectations for himself wanting to be just like his famous uncle and most would agree that he has met if not exceed those expectations.

So, it is no surprise that he was chosen as the new Prince of Dorne with no more Martells alive to claim the title. The surprise is that he's alive at all.

Last Varys heard, the man was in Essos then he was not heard from again. A common thing, Essos is as large as it is dangerous. From Dothraki, to fanatical religious zealots, to centuries old warlocks, to the slavers, Varys can go on and on about the perils of Essos he knows them intimately. If one is not careful they can easily lose their life or freedom 'or their cock' in an instant. Varys assumed Rhevan suffered the same fate as many others before him and that House Dayne had lost its one of a kind ancestral blade.

Though it would seem that is not the case.

From what his little birds have told him it was all but decided by the High Lords that Anders Yronwood would take over Dorne. That was until Ser Rhevan made his appearance.

According to the letter, the meeting hall went dead silent as he walked through the doors flanked by his two closest childhood friends Andrey Dalt and Daemon Sand. Even Edric Dayne, the young lord of House Dayne, was shocked to see his older cousin alive and well.

He demanded to know what was going on and what happened to House Martell. Once the former ruling house's fate was explained to him it is said he looked ready to slaughter every lord in there saying they should've captured the kinslayers immediately and have them thrown in the snake pits.

Apparently, their dornish allies are not as innocent in the case of the sudden deaths of Doran and his heir as they wanted to seem.

Once Rhevan calmed, he told them all he would be taking the throne for himself and he would get revenge on the bastards for their actions. Lord Yronwood, understandably wroth, challenged The Mourning Star since he was close to being named High King of Dorne like his family was back before Nymeria's War. The duel went as expected The Sword of The Morning proving he hasn't lost a step in his absence.

He was named Prince of Dorne afterwards.

Varys was sure there was more to the story than that, but his little birds can only put so much information on the small piece of paper. Well he would apparently get his chance to learn the full story from the source himself. The new Prince of Dorne was on his way to Dragonstone.

He got this letter from his little birds in the Stormlands; he had no doubt this information was a bit delayed.

Which means-

Varys snaps his head up quickly as he hears quick, light footfalls coming towards him. It's one of his little birds. The same one who handed him the letter in his hand. He is panting heavily looking as though he has just run around the entire island.

"What is it?" Varys asks the panting child. The child looks up at Varys, finally seeming to have caught his wind. He starts to point frantically towards the opening that leads outside the hidden cavern in the direction of the beach front.

"There is something on the beachfront?" Varys questioned.

Varys is sure now that he knows what's out there. Years of dealing with his little birds has helped him be able to understand their silent form of communication quite well. The child nods his head. Making shapes with his hands. Before putting up 1 finger.

"One ship" Varys says more to himself than the child. He looks down at the child and smiles before pulling out a piece of rock candy wrapped in paper from his pocket.

"Good job, I'll be headed there now." Varys tells the child handing him the candy with a pat on the head before quickly making his way to the beach front to greet their newest guests.

'I hope I can convince him to join our cause. Having him on our side will help our cause greatly. I just hope Her Grace hasn't gotten attached to those Sand Snakes.' He thinks before stepping through the opening.

There, not far from the beach itself he sees the ship. While the ship itself is nothing special, it's the sigil on the sail that catches the spider's attention.

A white sword and falling star crossed on lilac.

The Prince of Dorne has arrived.

Varys takes a deep breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He puts his simpering smile on his face and heads towards the ship. This is a needed ally. Having Dorne is imperative to their war efforts. Not to mention having The Sword of the Morning on their side would be a great help for getting the lords who's loyalties are still undecided to join their side.

As he makes it to the beach front, he sees a small row boat on its way to shore. It's holding three men. If Varys had any doubts on the validity of the information given to him before then they were put to rest as he looks at the man sitting in the middle of the boat as it pulls into shore.

As the three men step up to him Varys begins his attempted swaying. "Welcome to Dragonstone My Prince. While your appearance is unexpected, it is certainly most welcome." Varys simpers in his sweetest voice as he speaks to the man in the middle, head down bowing in deference.

He hears a scoff come from the man to the Prince's right. And a short chuckle came from the man to his left.

"Allow me to take you to my Queen. She and the rest of our allies are currently holding a war council. I was on the way there when I noticed your arrival." He continued, head still down. Still, receiving no reply. He looks up to see the Prince looking directly at him.

His face showing no signs of what he's thinking.

Varys stares back. Knowing he should look away. He's played this game for a long time. He knows how to interact with Lords, he's an expert at it.

But he can't.

Varys has seen Ashara Dayne before. She was a sister in all but blood to Princess Elia, so she spent a lot of time in the Red Keep back when it was still a dragon's den. She was known as the most beautiful woman in Westeros back when she still lived. While he has never lusted over a woman in his life. Even he could not help but be entranced by the allure of the dornish maiden.

But it was not her flawless light olive skin, nor her blindingly white smile that kept his attention. Not even her angelic voice that always had a slightly husky tilt to it. Her long legs that seemed to go on far miles, while incredible to some, did not make Varys take a second glance. It was not her supple curves, that had women green with envy and men groveling at her feet, that caught Varys like fish on a hook.

No.

It was her eyes.

An intense purple that once you gazed upon them you felt as though all of your thoughts were laid bare before her.

A haunting violet color. Almost hypnotic in nature.

As though with one glance she can put you under a spell that would make one lose their sense of self. Lost in the abyss for what felt like an eternity. Until she decides to break eye contact with you.

Yes. It was her eyes.

Those eyes, that is what Varys truly remembers most of the Ashara Dayne.

Eyes that she passed on to her only child.

While at first glance one might not think so, simply because of the obvious. They aren't the same color.

While hers was violet.

His is gold.

Not a bright gold like that of the Lannister Lion.

Not beaten gold like that of a golden dragon.

Not a soft gold like that of the silks worn by Lyseni pleasure slaves.

No. His was dark gold. Closer to amber than yellow.

Like a flame contained within his iris. Truly a stunning sight.

So much so, that Varys couldn't look away. Lost in the mini suns contained within his eye sockets.

Melting away all of the mummery. Burning through all of the many layers of sickly sweet smiles, simpering words, faux-coy looks.

Those eyes.

They see the true you whether you want them to or not. And no matter how hard you try. You can't look away.

Just like his mother.

Then suddenly, like the snap of a finger, the spell was broken. Their staring contest lasted no longer than 5 seconds in reality, but to the spider it felt a lifetime.

The Prince looked up toward the towering castle made of black stone and spoke for the first time.

"Lead the way." he said simply, voice deep but smooth. Strong but soft. Sensual in the way nearly all the dornish people sound with their accent adding a bit extra something to the common tongue.

"Of course. Right this way." Varys responded before turning around, leading them. Hoping that they didn't catch the very slight waver in his voice when he spoke. He took slow, silent deep breaths in order to collect himself as they moved toward the steps to the main keep.

"I'll admit, I'm curious about your sudden reappearance your grace." He begins leadingly, as they head up the stairs that lead to the main keep.

### 

"For decades, House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros." Lord Tyrion begins, while grabbing the Unsullied war piece and walking around the Painted Table toward the Westerlands.

"And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock, and take it." He finishes while knocking over the wooden Lannister Lion. All parties in the chamber look at each other for a moment while Tyrion walks to the front of the Table to stand next to their Queen.

Daenerys stands at the head, posture straight, hands clasped in front of her. She look to her allies one by one. "Do I have your support?" She asks. Looking at her allies, waiting on their words.

"You have mi-" Yara begins before being cut off by the sound of the chamber doors. Walking in is Varys.

He looks around the room a bit before his eyes land on Ellaria and the sand snakes. He doesn't say anything, only puts that simpering smile back on his face before looking at his Queen, head down.

"Apologies for my tardiness, my queen. I received an urgent message from one of my little birds." He begins, before pulling a small piece of paper out of his sleeve.

"It would seem the landscape of Westeros has shifted." The spider starts, eyes slowly moving to the olive skinned ladies to his right. "The high lords of Dorne have met in secret at Sunspear. And they have chosen a new ruler."

"What?" Ellaria Sand calls out. Shock on her face and in her voice. As all eyes turn to her. Different expressions on each face that looks her way.

"Apparently, they did not approve of you killing their liege and his heir before usurping the crown." Varys explains. Amusement clear in his face. "They have named the four of you kinslayers and refuse to recognize you as their Princess."

The eyes of everyone in the chamber now wide with shock. Yara steps away from Dornish ladies, body tense, as though they were about to make a move against her.

"Lies!" Obara Sand states aggressively. "Doran and Trystane were poisoned by their enemies, not by us." She looks to Tyrion as though to blame him for the crime.

"Their enemies. Perhaps that list includes you four." Tyrion says, still standing next to his Queen. "Your thirst for vengeance for the perceived murder of the Red Viper is widely known." He continues looking directly at Ellaria. "As widely known as Prince Doran's passivity." He finishes, as Olenna Tyrell makes her sharp tongue known.

"I wouldn't put it pass you lot. You dornish are a deceitful bunch. Add that with your bastard blood an-"

"Watch your tongue you old, saggy bitch before you lose it!" Tyene Sand cuts, before taking a step toward Olenna's seat. Ser Barristan grips his sword looking ready to intervene as does Grey Worm moving in front of Missandei, who's has moved closer to her queen, shifting his spear.

"Enough!" Daenerys' authoritative voice echoes through the chamber. Everything stopping. All of the occupants turning to her, expressions diverse. All silent, waiting for her to speak. Things were finally moving forward, a plan of attack nearly finalized, before her Master of Whispers made his appearance. Shaking everything up. Speaking of..

"Continue Lord Varys." She speaks, eyes not on him but staring directly at the dornish ladies. Daring them to interrupt again. She doesn't know if these claims of kinslaying are true, but if they are...

"Thank you my queen, but I am no lord" Varys simpers lightly before he starts up again.

"Lord Anders Yronwood was going to be chosen.." Varys starts, before hearing a loud scoff coming from the mouth of Nymeria Sand. Daenerys' eyes pin her with a heated glance. Making her clamp her mouth shut, quickly putting her head down.

"But another showed up right before he was crowned and made a claim to the throne." Varys continues, pausing, as though for dramatic effect. Daenerys' eyes now turn to him. Starting to lose her patience with him. She is losing an important ally and he is acting as though this is a game.

"Well...Anytime now spider. Tell us who the dornish dunces have chosen. I'm growing stiff from sitting here for this long. Not that you would know anything about being stiff." The Lady of the Reach cuts.

Daenerys is not the only one at her wits end it seems. She doesn't quite know if she is about to lightly chide the Lady for her rude words or agree with her, but Varys speaks first. Finally speaking the name.

"They have chosen Ser Rhevan Dayne." He announces, his face finally free of that annoying faux demure look. Now more serious.

While to Daenerys the name held little meaning. To would seem that was not the case for everyone else in the room. For the moment Varys finished the final syllable of the name. The atmosphere of the room shifted. 

A new tension was added to the already tense chamber. It smothered the previous tension that cloaked the room like a heavy woolen blanket.

As though the name itself was a spell. One that tilted the very world on its axis.

No one spoke. The only thing heard was sharp intakes of breath and shaky exhales.

Surprisingly, one coming from close behind her.

She looks over her left shoulder to examine her faithful knight. She was astonished with what she saw.

His face, normally calm and stoic, almost solemn in nature, had shifted. His jaw, normally closed shut with a hard edge to it, was unhinged, agape. His eyes, normally alert and collected, never letting anything get past them. Were wide, shock and disbelief evident in his blue irises. But those were not the most preeminent emotions.

Before she can make out which emotions it is that she sees in his gaze, someone finally broke the heavy silence.

"Impossible." One word. Whispered lightly.

If not for the complete silence of the chamber, it would have been lost in the wind. Never reaching anyone's ears to be heard.

Daenerys turns to the speaker and her light purple eyes widen a touch at the site before her.

Ellaria Sand looks as though she's seen a ghost. Eyes wide with fear, skin taking an almost ashen hue, hands shaking lightly. It is as though she had suddenly fallen ill.

A look she shares with the rest of her brood. All three of the Sand Snakes look similar to their leader. As though death itself was standing in front of them. Ready to pluck their lives from existence.

"I assure you, I speak the truth my lady. I have confirmed this myself." Her spymaster says, looking as though he's having the time of his life seeing the sand's reaction.

"And just how have you managed to confirm this?" Her Hand speaks, for the first time in a while. Surprising, considering his love for words. "Is that why it took you so long to join us? You were in Dorne confirming this. Quite the quick trip I must say. Did you take her grace’s dragons?" Tyrion japes, seemingly trying to ease the tension that continues building with an injection of humor.

She turns her head to him with a raised eyebrow as Varys titters.

"No my Lord Hand." He starts, as he looks to Tyrion, an almost forced looking demure smile that lacks its usual flair makes its way on his face.

"The new Prince informed me himself. Personally."

Silence. A moment passes. Then another.

By now Daenerys is starting to get tired of this nearly suffocating pressure that has built in the chamber. Not to mention, they have yet to finalize their battle plans and every moment they waste is another that Cersei wins.

"So, he is here." Daenerys' speaks out, voice strong, ready to get to the bottom of this.

"He is Your Grace." The spider responds bowing his head as he continues, "He is in the Throne room with two of his companions as we speak."

For a moment, she thought to greet him in the throne room as a show of her power. But brushed the thought off, he was already there it wouldn't have the same effect.

Also, she would be going to him.

She was The Queen.

He would come to her.

"Go and get him. Bring him here." As she says this her dornish allies head snap to her swiftly.

"At once my queen." Varys replies before bowing slightly and turning to complete his task.

"Just him, Lord Varys. Have his companions wait in the throne room." She adds, hoping that will placate the women for now. It doesn't not.

"Of course my queen." He responds while walking out the door, closing it behind him.

"Your grace, this man is a usurper! Trying to take what doesn't belong to him. Surely you understand. You must imprison him." Ellaria pleads, voice wavering slightly. Hoping to appeal to her through a supposed shared plight.

"Varys said all of the high lords of Dorne have chosen him as their Prince. If anyone is the usurper it is you." Tyrion shoots back, taking an untold amount of joy in the killer of his niece's new precarious predicament.

In the corner of her eye, she sees her bold knight nodding his head in agreement with her Hand. She turns to her head his way eyeing him curiously. Her normally stoic protector has shown an unusual amount of emotion in these past few minutes.

'Ever since Varys spoke that name. Does he know this Rhevan Dayne?' she wonders, as she is about to speak her question to him, she is cut off by the venomous words of the Viper's eldest daughter.

"Be silent imp. Mind your own business, less you find the point of my spear in your throat." Obara growls.

Dany's eyes narrow at the threat made to her hand. She has had enough of the sand snake's blatant disregard of her demand to respect her hand.

"My, aren't you all tense. If you have done nothing wrong then why do you all look ready to jump from the balcony?" The Queen of Thrones ponders. She has been silent for a while, choosing to observe silently instead of speak. Until now.

"Maybe I should throw you over it instead, you shriveled up old b-"

Nymeria doesn't get the chance to finish her sentence as the door opens and Varys walks in.

He is not alone.

A man walks in with him.

He's wearing a finely made cream colored tunic. The top strings loose, showing off a small bit of his defined chest. He has a thin silver necklace around his neck.

He has what looks like, leather gauntlets on his arms. Stopping about mid forearm. The leather of the gauntlet covering his palms but leaving his fingers free.

Sword on his belt, that apparently wasn't taken away by her guards. It's crossguard is a beautiful silver color. A finely crafted star-shape on its pommel.

'Dawn' She thinks, now knowing the reason it wasn't taken. No doubt he refused to be parted with his family's legendary ancestral blade.

He wore simple brown traveling trousers and boots to finish his look.

He is tall. Taller than her white knight beside her by at least half a head.

He is broad-shouldered. Powerful muscles coiled tightly under his skin. Having the build of a man who has spent the entirety of his life being a warrior.

His skin is a dusky color. Perhaps a shade or two darker than that of the wide eyed Ellaria to her left.

His hair long, past shoulder length. An inky black color with a small silver streak going through it. Separated into two braids starting from the top of his head.

His ears are perhaps his most normal features. Though they have small golden hoops pierced into his detached earlobes.

His chiseled jaw is covered by a medium length beard. The same deep black as the hair on his head.

High cheekbones and a straight aquiline nose, with a small gem of some sort on top of his left nostril, highlights his face. Giving it an almost inhuman appeal. Along with a scar that starts just above his right eyebrow and stretches down to just below his cheekbone about even with the end of his nose. It goes through his eye.

His eyes.

She is sure she has seen such a color before, but she can't quite recall where.

Almost the color of fire, though with a golden hue.

They appear to have a light glow. But instead of brightening them, as things tend to do when they glow, it seems to darken them.

Giving them an almost haunting quality.

As he stands next to her spymaster. The chamber quieted to a hush. He looks around slowly.

Observing everyone around him. His face not changing as he looks into the eyes of every soul in the room one by one.

From Lady Olenna, to Grey Worm, to Missandei.

His eyes narrow slightly as he gazes at her Hand.

Though it was only for an instant as his eyes move to hers. He inclines his head slightly in acknowledgement. No doubt recognizing her Valyrian features and knowing who she is instantly. His face though still unchanged.

That is until he looks slightly behind her. It's the first show of any emotion she has seen from him.

His eyes widen lightly. And seem to almost change colors, illuminating a bit, giving them a seemingly translucent look.

It was mesmerizing.

His full lips quirk up marginally. As if wishing to go into a full blown grin.

But then in an instant it is gone, as he looks away from Ser Barristan.

Back to that emotionless mask.

He turns his eyes to the Greyjoys only briefly before they leave them.

Once his eyes finally reach the dornish ladies, she sees his mask break once again.

His sculpted jaw clenches tightly. His mouth shifts from a straight line into a deep scowl. His brows lower, as his eyes narrow into near slits, a deep glare overtaking his feature.

His eyes.

She has seen them look as if fire turned gold when he first arrived. She has seen them lighten into a translucent hue, as though if you stare into them hard enough you can see into his mind, when he looked upon her stalworth bodyguard.

But as she looks at them now, filled with pure anger, she thinks this may be their most gorgeous color.

Dark.

So much so, that were the chamber not alight from the sun shining behind her through the balcony, she would swear they were black. Luckily, enveloped in the rays of the midday sun as they were. She can see them in all their glory.

Red.

Not a regular shade of the color though. It is tinged like the life liquid that runs through every living being's veins.

A deep red that seems to drown any other color that clashes with it.

The color of the Three-Headed Dragon of House Targaryen.

Blood Red.

His attention was not on her, but she couldn't look away.

If she were to look upon whom his focus was on, she imagined she would see them on their knees.

Groveling.

Begging for mercy she doubts he would give. Unable to withstand the sheer intensity, the malevolence, the vitriol present in those eyes.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't look away.

It felt as though hours had passed before she was snapped out of her trance by the sound of her spymaster clearing his throat.

"Your grace." He says, looking back at her with calculating eyes.

"May I introduce, Ser Rhevan Dayne. The Sword of the Morning. The new ruling Prince of Dorne." He finishes, eyes still fixed on her.

While her's shifts back to the man next to him. Who's attention is now on her. His eyes back to their neutral haunting gold.

As though the blood red tinge they held moments ago was only a trick of the light.

Forgetting herself for a moment, she fixes her mouth to respond, but she hears Missandei shuffle forward and inhale.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains." Missandei announces proudly.

"A pleasure, your Grace." he says simply. Speaking his first words in her presence with a slight bow of his head. His voice deep, with a light dornish drawl. Not unlike that of the sand snakes he was just glaring death at.

"The pleasure is all mine Prince Rhevan." She begins, as she sees his eyebrow quirk up a bit and his eyes lighten a smidge at her use of his new title. She tries to ignore it and continues...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End.
> 
> A/N: Wow. My first chapter of my first story finally finished. I gotta tell y'all it feels good to finally put it out. I've been thinking about writing my own story for years now but I've never really felt that itch until recently. Gotta say, it feels damn good. I'm by no stretch an expert at writing fanfic or novels or anything really. But I've read a lot of stories and I think I have a good grasp on what I like when I readso I just tried to do that. Anyways, this is an AU (if Ser Barry's appearance didn't make that obvious) mostly showverse but I'll add a few book elements later on. Nothing major but slight things I wish they would've added to the show.
> 
> What do y'all think about Rhevan so far? Before you ask, yes his name is based of The Revan from Kotor. Always loved the game and the name (bars) so I thought I'd take it. Add a little GoT flair to it you know.
> 
> His backstory will be told in flashbacks. I have his whole journey in my head and I feel like if I try to write it all down it'll be like 300,000 words. Maybe I'll do it in a separate story...
> 
> Anyways, I'm rambling.
> 
> If you liked what you read so far. Leave a comment.
> 
> If you didn't like it. Leave a comment.
> 
> If you're iffy on it...Leave a comment.
> 
> It could be about anything, I just wanna hear y'all's thoughts.
> 
> Lmk if y'all see any grammatical errors. 
> 
> Next chapter there will be more dialogue from Rhevan. My boy just scoping the scene rn. Some action too.
> 
> It'll prolly come out some time in the next two weeks. No set day for updates as of yet.
> 
> Well, that's all. I'm out.
> 
> Love y'all.
> 
> Peace.


	2. Remembrance and Revenge

# A Dragon's wish

### Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revenge

Rhevan did not want to be here.

Had he been given a choice he would have never returned. But unfortunately for him, that was not the case. 

The choice taken out of his hands, by both the High Lords of Dorne that chose him to be their Prince. And by his Dreams.

Dragon Dreams.

That is what they were called according to the woman he met in Essos during his adventure in the East. 

Dragon Dreams are special dreams that are known to have a premonition-like quality to them. They affect those with the blood of the dragon. They often involve dragons but not always.

He has been plagued by these dreams his entire life. 

Often starting out a vague vision of something to come, often too obscure for him to make out. Then as the more time passes they continue every night over and over again. Increasing in both clarity and intensity. So much so that it would often get to the point where he would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. 

They didn’t stop until he did whatever it was that the dreams wanted him to accomplish. 

It was those dreams that led him to Essos in the first place. They were also the reason he returned home when he did. 

Now it is his dreams, along with his new subjects, that have made him return to this grim place that holds too many memories to count. 

From the moment Rhevan saw the large dark castle of Dragonstone, from the deck of the ship they had taken there, his mind was lost. 

Lost in memories of a different time. 

A better time. 

A time when smiles came as easy as breathing. A time when there were no onerous responsibilities weighing so heavily upon him it felt as though he were going to be crushed into a fine paste. A time when the hardest task he had was to try and stomach his greens because Uncle Arthur said it was how he grew so strong.

A time when everyone he loved was still alive.

Lost in remembrance, he was simply going through the motions as the ship hands prepared the small row boat that would take them to the beachfront.

The very same beachfront that he spent countless hours playing as a child. Playing Tag or Knights and Bandits or Florian and Jonquil or any other fun games that came to their minds. Making sand castles and swimming in the shallow shore waters with the other local children and his best friend Rhae. 

Rhaenys.

The Naerys to his Dragonknight as their mothers would often refer to them. 

His eyes nearly tear up, as they always do, at just the thought of her. 

Born only moons apart, they were inseparable from the moment they met as babes. 

One of the earliest memories he can recall is of her naming him her sworn sword. 

He can’t hold back the somber amusement he feels as he remembers the amount of childish pride he took in his new appointment. He would shadow her everywhere she went, wooden play sword at his hip, taking his job as seriously as a child of 3 namedays can. 

He failed her. 

He’ll never forget the day he got news of her and her family’s tragic demise.

The unimaginable anguish he felt in that moment was soul crushing. To this day he still feels a sharp pain in his heart at the thought of it. 

Even now, a man grown, he can’t help but think that had he been there he could have done something. Foolish he knows, he was only 5 at the time having just recently celebrated his name day in Starfall.

When his mother found out she was pregnant it gave Elia the perfect excuse to dismiss her best friend from court. Hoping to spare them both from the glorified imprisonment that she and her children were forced to suffer under by Aerys. 

If they had stayed, he would have protected her from that fucking monster Amory Lorch. 

Maybe he would have fought the sick fuck, jamming his training sword into Lorch’s throat so hard it crushed his windpipe. Maybe he would have snuck up on him from behind and slit his throat. Maybe he would have taken her into one of the secret passages and they could have hid there until someone saved them. Maybe he would have taken her place, get stabbed half a hundred times while she flees to safety. 

Or more likely she’d be the one slitting Lorch’s throat from behind. She wouldn’t have fled. She was far too brave to even think about doing something as cowardly as that.

“I’m a dragon Rhevy, a dornish dragon, I fear nothing.” She once told him when he asked if she was scared to climb the tallest tree in the Godswood of the Red Keep. She then proceeded to climb to not looking down once until she reached a low branch sturdy enough for her to sit on. The look of triumph and challenge that burned in her dark indigo eyes is one still ingrained in his memory to this day.

He climbed up right after her, not wanting to be shown up by the young princess he was supposed to be protecting. They spent the rest of the day hiding up there talking about everything and nothing.

Of course when it was time to go inside they had a bit of a problem getting down, the ground feeling as if it was miles away to their young minds. He was hesitant, not wanting to get hurt or worse. She was as well, but only for a short moment before she stubbornly glared at the ground below and prepared for the journey down. Luckily, Ser Jaime wasn’t far away, he was guarding her that day. He got them down from the tree with ease and more importantly he didn’t tell their mothers about it.

Yes, she was far too proud to run away and leave him to die alone. She would have stood shoulder to shoulder with him and they would have killed the bastard. Then they would have gone to her mother’s room and saved Elia and Egg from that monster.

But that wasn’t the case. 

He wasn’t there.

He was missing in action when her killer broke down her father’s door.

He was absent when she was dragged from under Rhaegar’s bed.

He was nowhere to be found as she was stabbed over and over and over again.

He was safe in Dorne when she needed her sworn sword most. 

He would give his life a million times over, spend the rest of eternity burning in the hottest pits of the seven hells, if it meant she could breath once more. 

He would give anything, do anything, if it meant he could go back in time and be there for her in the moment she needed him most. 

To give her a chance to live. 

To experience life.

But no. 

That was now impossible, all because of the actions of one disgusting creature. 

A creature he killed. 

Killing Lorch was one of the most satisfying things he’d ever done. 

The shock on his face when he recognized who had abducted him and the reason for it.

Watching the terror in his eyes when he realized what his fate was.

Hearing him scream in agony until his voice was lost while his skin was peeled from his body was music to The Mourning Star’s ears.

While normally Rhevan wouldn’t consider himself a sadistic person. He was never one to feel pleasure in the pain of others. Usually feeling more detached than anything else when takes someone’s life.

This was different.

This was retribution. 

This was justice. 

This was revenge.

It felt amazing to rid the world of that demon. 

It felt euphoric to see the light leave his eyes and know that freak that killed his best friend had suffered a gruesome end at his hands. 

But the euphoria didn’t last long. 

Because at the end of the day, she was still gone. And nothing would bring her back.

He’d never hear her laugh or see her smile or listen to her go on and on about whatever kind of mischief she and Belarion got up to while he was practicing in the training yard ever again. 

Killing Lorch didn’t change that.

The temporary bliss couldn’t heal the crushing pain in his heart that had been there since the moment his mother told him of Rhae’s fate.

A debilitating hole in his soul that has never been filled and likely never will be. 

He would have remained lost in his sorrowful depressing memories had his shoulder not been hit lightly by a hand to his left.

Looking to the left he sees Daemon looking at him with a concerned expression. 

Rhevan ignores it and looks forward only to be slightly surprised to see the shiny bald head of Varys bowed low right in front of him. 

So lost in old pain he didn’t even notice them getting on the small row boat. Let alone getting to shore and departing. 

Gathering his barings and mentally preparing himself what comes next, he takes a silent deep breath and looks at the spider’s head, waiting for him to finish his little show of mock deference. 

Once the spider looks up he stares right into his eyes. He can feel Varys’ unease, a common emotion people have when they lock eyes with him. Though can get little else from the strong mind of the spymaster.

He knows of the powerful lure his gaze commands. It's something he got from his Mother. Only enhanced by the potent magic coursing through his veins courtesy of the Dragon’s blood given to him by his Father. 

The ability to feel someone’s emotions, and in some cases even read their surface thoughts, with nothing more than a glance.

“Lead the way.” he tells the spider before looking up at the grim castle once more. 

He ignores whatever simpering words the spider says next in favor of looking at his two companions. 

They know this place holds a lot of memories for him so they gave him his space and silence on their way to shore. Though he knows they are worried for him by the worry he saw in Dae's eyes a moment ago. No doubt if he were to look to Drey his expression would be similar.

“I’m fine. Let’s keep moving, we have questions we need answers to.” He says in a low tone so the spider doesn’t hear him. 

They begin to make their way up the many stairs leading to the main keep before Drey gets ready to speak but Varys speaks first.

“I’ll admit, I'm curious about your sudden reappearance your grace.” The spider begins. Rhevan just rolls his eyes at the spy’s blatant attempt to fish for information. 

“You know what they say about curiosity Lord Spider. Perhaps you should simply mind your business lest you end up like the cat.” Daemon japes. That ever smug smile, that rubs nearly everyone he meets the wrong way, present on his handsome face. 

Ser Daemon Sand has sky blue eyes and shoulder length sandy brown hair. Also known as _The Bastard of Godgrace,_ he is the bastard son of Ser Ryon Allyrion. He is one of the finest knights in all of Dorne and also, a childhood friend of Rhevan.

Though they didn’t get along when they first met in the Water Gardens years ago. 

Rhevan being a young boy, nervous about being in a new place, still grieving over the loss of all his closest family in such a short amount of time. He was a shy sad child at the time he met Daemon and heard he was a bastard too. Hoping to make a new friend, he approached the older boy. Daemon, though only being a few years older than him, had thought him nothing but a baby and brushed him off calling him such while telling to go run back to his mother before making a joke about her being dead.

Rhevan was enraged by the cruel comments and started throwing punches at the older boy demanding he apologize. Daemon, who while surprised at first, recovered quickly and defended himself from the wild attacks with ease. Daemon had begun squiring for Oberyn Martell moons earlier and was more adept at fighting not to mention larger and stronger. Beating up a young Rhevan before walking away laughing. He thought it was over after putting the little brat in his place. 

He was wrong, it was far from over.

Everyday from the moment he would see Daemon, Rhevan would immediately attack him. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter when. From the moment they made eye contact the brawling began. With Rhevan on the losing end every time. But he didn’t care, he would get his apology and Daemon being the stubborn boy he was, and still is, he refused to do so. So it continued. 

That was, until Rhevan began to win. He adapted to the way Daemon would fight him and started learning to read his movements. After his first win, leaving the older boy with a broken nose, he demanded the apology but the stubborn boy refused. Claiming Rhevan won by luck and that he’d never do so again.

He was wrong once again. 

It was him who never won again. Day after day, Rhevan would find him and beat him up demanding an apology until the Bastard of Godsgrace finally gave in.

Rhevan forgave him easily and they had been friends ever since. 

“Daemon please don’t threaten one of the Dragon Queen’s advisors. I’d rather you not get us in a situation we have to fight our way out of. Again.” The exasperated voice of Andrey Dalt calls out, sounding as though this isn’t the first time he has spoken these words to Daemon.

Drey is a comely man, short dark hair and dark brown eyes make up his face. He’s the most serious of the trio. While he is a good fighter and knight, he’d rather avoid confrontation if possible. Preferring diplomacy over a blade. No doubt the influence of Doran Martell for whom he was a cupbearer in his youth. 

Their journey to friendship much simpler. He and Rhevan have always been acquainted in their youth but never friends. Andrey admitted he was always a bit jealous of him because of how much attention Doran paid to him during his visits to the Water Gardens. Always wondering what it was about the arrogant Dayne bastard that intrigued the man he idolized so much.

They became friends in their later years when they were, coincidentally, studying at the Citadel at the same time. Kind of knowing each other from their youth and being the only Dornish men around their age there, they naturally gravitated to each other. Finding out they had a lot in common and that Rhevan wasn’t as full of himself as he had first thought they became fast friends. 

Andrey and Daemon knew each other longer but none would call what they had before a friendship. Daemon squired for Oberyn Martell and he and Drey were often in the same space. Unfortunately their personalities were too different and they clashed often. Daemon is cocky where Andrey is more humble. Andrey prefers to take things seriously while Dae loves his japes and is more laid back. 

They only became friends when they both decided to go with Rhevan to Essos. 

“Relax little Drey Drey I’m only messing with our dear arachnid here.” He says with a big smile, using his childhood nickname for Andrey, making said man narrow his eyes. Dae walks closer to Varys and puts an arm over his shoulder. 

“We are going to be allies soon, what's a few jokes between friends, right Lord Spider?” He continues cheekily to the man he is currently leaning against.

“You will learn everything you wish, when you hear me tell your queen Spider. I’d rather not have to repeat myself.” Rhevan cuts in, speaking to Varys, before Drey can snipe back for that little drey drey comment. Knowing if he let them, they’d argue for the whole journey to the keep. 

“Of course my prince I understand. But if you could just answer one question for me? Is it true that the sand snakes murdered their uncle and cousin?” Varys asks, looking uncomfortable. No doubt because of the increased tightness of Dae’s grip on him as he finished asking his question.

“That is what I intend to find out, Lord Varys. Who better to learn the truth from then the accused themselves.” Rhevan replies, words having a hard edge to them. He didn’t want to believe the other Lords when they told him but they had proof. 

Several maids and servants from the palace had gotten away when the sand snakes staged their coup. 

They separated into seven small groups and traveled to the closest Lords around Sunspear in order to inform them of the betrayal. Only two of the groups made it to their destinations, the others no doubt hunted down and killed. One group made it to The Tor and spoke with Lord Trebor Jordayne. While the other made it to Lord Tremond Gargalen of Salt Shore. 

When the Lords got the news they immediately sent out ravens to the rest of the Lords in Dorne and they planned a secret meeting in order to deal with this problem. They went to Sunspear with all their combined forces in order to confront the accused kinslayers but they weren’t there. Having gone to Dragonstone to ally with the Dragon Queen. A few days after they arrived they met in the palace and decided, whether the accusations were true or not they would not follow a group of bastards regardless of their royal blood. That’s when they began their discussions on who would rule Dorne next. 

With House Yronwood being the second strongest house behind House Martell in terms of both wealth and military might and with Lord Anders being decently liked, he was the obvious choice. And he nearly won, had Rhevan not arrived when he did. 

He had finally finished his business in Essos and was looking forward to seeing the Martells, including the Sand Snakes and Ellaria, again after years away. He planned on telling about everything he had seen and done. Also explain why he went missing for those 4 years. Imagine his surprise when he got to Sunspear and not only were the Martells dead but, the main culprit was their own family.

He had heard about Oberyn’s death. 

He was furious. Not just to lose a man he thought another Uncle to him, but to do so to the same monster that killed Elia and Egg. 

He felt for Doran truly.

To lose both your brother and sister to the same rabid animal. That was devastating.

He could only imagine the pain Ellaria, and Oberyn’s daughters were going through.

Apparently, enough pain to make them lose their minds and kill the last bit of family they had left.

He didn’t want to believe it when the lords told him.

The sand snakes were like family to him. They all grew up together. 

Played in the Waters Gardens as children. 

Learned to fight together in the training yard in their adolescence.

Introduced each other to the pleasures of the flesh as they grew older.

To learn they killed their own uncle. 

His Prince. 

The man who didn't look down on him because of his heritage and treated him the same as he would any of his own blood. 

The man that taught him so much about life.

The man took him out of Starfall after the death of his mother and brought him to the Water Gardens to be surrounded by love and laughter. 

The man that taught him how to deal with the grief of losing everything he loved in such a short period of time. 

Had it not been for Doran Martell taking pity on a young and angry bastard boy at his lowest, Rhevan would have died a long time ago.

And now that man is dead. 

Him and his young son killed by their own family.

Allegedly.

Ellaria and her brood had better pray to whatever fucking gods they believe in that these claims are false. 

Because if they are truly guilty of these crimes against his family.

He would have his revenge. 

“So Lord Varys, my new friend, you are a eunuch yes? Tell me, do you still feel excitement when you see a large pair of tits? Do you get a tingle down there when you see a fat ass jiggling right in front of your eyes? Surely you’ve been to your share of brothels in your time in King’s Landing, does that not get your blood flowing?” Daemon continues wiggling his eyebrows, messing with the Spider as they make their way up the seemingly endless stairs. 

Rhevan and Drey make eye contact for a moment. Rhevan smirks amused at Daemon’s games while Drey just sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I have yet to see any sign of a dragon. Perhaps the rumors are false, created by her people to spread fear in her enemies.” Drey says quietly to Rhevan, as Dae keeps the Spider distracted. 

“No, they are real. I can sense them. They are resting in the Dragonmont.” Rhevan responds, he felt the dragons the moment his mind was pulled out of reminisce. They were large and powerful of that, he was sure. 

Andrey lets out a sigh. “Of course they are real. Because nothing we do can ever be simple for us, can it.” He bemoans, getting a chuckle out of his fearless leader.

“Simple is boring Drey. What’s life without challenge?” Rhevan questions, smirking at Drey knowing what his response would be. 

“You have been spending too much time with Daemon. You are starting to pick up his reckless habits.” Drey predictably responds. Simply blaming Daemon just because. He continues speaking, though getting back on topic. 

“I guess you were correct in your choice to leave Emperion behind in Dorne. His presence would have definitely caused more problems.” Drey continues. 

“Yeah. Emperion is as proud as they come. Had he came with us, I have no doubt he would already be at the Dragonmont puffing out his chest acting as though he was their superior and they should swear allegiance, or whatever the dragon equivalent is, to him. Even though he is younger and smaller than they are.” Rhevan responds, smiling while thinking about his dragon. His partner was an arrogant little guy. Looking down upon everything and everyone except Rhevan himself since he hatched.

“Well hopefully we can come to an agreement with her grace and we won’t have to worry about another Dance on our hands.” Drey says, before quieting down, looking forward at the large castle they were closing in on.

“Hopefully my friend, hopefully.”

### 

When they finally reach the throne room Rhevan was not surprised to find it empty. 

The Spider said that his Queen and her counsel were having a war meeting. Such a thing would be best done in The Chamber of the Painted Table. His thought proven correct by the presence of unsullied guards standing in front of the door that led into said room. Dothraki guards standing next to the throne itself. They rose to their feet once they noticed strangers coming inside the room.

“I will inform my queen of your arrival Prince Rhevan.” The spider says simply before moving towards the large doors of the war room.

“So.” Daemon begins, “You plan on bending the knee her Royal Highness?” Asking his question to Rhevan while walking towards the Dothraki with a smirk on his face, no doubt planning on antagonizing them.

“Leave them alone Dae. We don’t need you starting any fights right now. Especially with the Dragon Queen right in the other room. It wouldn't make for a good first impression.” Andrey tells his friend hoping to stop him from doing something foolish. He then proceeds to give his opinion on the matter. 

“It would be a wise choice. The Dragon Queen holds the most cards. Unless she makes grievous mistakes in her planning of the war. She will no doubt sit on the Iron Throne soon.” This was a conversation they had many times on the boat on the way to Dragonstone. Drey wanted them to join her, while Dae was more reluctant.

“I still don’t think it's a good idea. I mean those Northern barbarians got their independence, why shouldn’t we have ours? The only reason Dorne even joined the seven kingdoms in the first place was because we choose to. Dragons couldn’t make us bow before, why should we do so now?” Daemon gives his usual answer. He wanted Rhevan to name himself High King of Dorne and just rule the south, without having to follow anyone else. 

“I don’t know.” Rhevan begins, answering Daemon’s original question before continuing. 

“The reason most of the Dornish lords had no problem with Ellaria and her brood taking over was because they were promised revenge on those that wronged them. A promise I told them I would follow through with. Fighting the Lannisters alone would be difficult, they have the advantage everywhere. From armies, to their navy, to money. It would be near impossible to beat them alone.” He finishes his thought. The sand snakes had the right idea, joining the dragon queen in order to get the revenge they desired so much. 

“I will decide when I actually have a conversation with her. There are a lot of hearsay about what type of person she is. I would like to meet her in person and get a gauge on who she is myself before making such an important decision.” Rhevan responds, before turning toward the doors behind the throne seeing Varys head their way. 

Curiously, he is alone.

“Her grace has asked that you come with me to the Chambers of the Painted Table to meet with her. Alone” He states once he is close enough and his words garners three different responses from the Dornishmen. 

“Hell no.”

“I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Very well. Lead the way.”

They all look at each other after speaking. Dae and Drey lock eyes for a long moment as though surprised they agree with one another. Before Drey gets ready to give his reasons for his belief. But he does not get the chance as Rhevan cuts him off.

“I’ll be fine. I doubt she’ll have me killed the moment I walk in the room.” Rhevan states before looking to Varys and speaking.

“Let’s go meet your queen.”

“Right this way my Prince.” Varys simpers while leading him to the chambers.

Rhevan looks back to his friends briefly, before speaking to them in a hushed tone.

“If you hear any sort of commotion be prepared to rush in. I don’t think we’ll have to fight our way out of this castle but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” He tells them as they nod their heads in response before following the spider. 

As they near the chamber he can hear the muffled heated words of one of the room’s occupants. When the door opens everything goes quiet. 

Rhevan uses that opportunity to look around the room and measure each of its occupants. 

First he looks to the person closest to him and the door. That being The Queen of Thorns herself. Olenna Tyrell.

Her eyes lock with his and he can’t discern any emotion coming from her. 

Her mind is a fortress.

He could’ve tried to force himself into her mind to learn what she is thinking but she would notice. Breaking into someone’s mind was not a pleasant experience for them.

Not the kind of first impression he wants to make. Besides he likes the old rose.

It has been a long time since he’d seen the elderly lady. Having met her a few times at several tourneys in Highgarden he participated in. 

His heart went out to her, he knows what it’s like to lose everything. He wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.

His eyes then move to the stone faced unsullied to his left. Rhevan can only assume that this was the commander of the queen’s unsullied army. He is alert and tense. Ready to run Rhevan through with his spear should he make any sudden moves against his Queen.

Next to him was a beautiful young woman that seemed around the same age as the Queen herself. She was looking at him with curiosity and a bit of fear. He’s not sure why she’s scared of him, he doesn’t think he looks scary at all. 

More devastatingly Handsome.

Getting back on track, he looks to the short man standing close to her. 

Tyrion Lannister. The man who’s freedom Oberyn died fighting for. Rhevan’s eyes narrow a bit at the thought. He knows it’s not the little Lannister’s fault, Oberyn was a grown man and he made his own decisions. It was just unfortunate that his life ended the way it did. Fighting for the member of the family that caused such pain to his own.

Tyrion Lannister was nervous. His mind is strong so it’s hard to get a full read on his emotions but Rhevan catches that much. He was also anxious. As though he knew something was about to happen and he couldn’t wait to watch it. 

Taking his eyes off the Lion of Casterly Rock, his eyes move to the most important person in the room. 

Daenerys Targaryen. 

Words could barely do her justice. 

He had traveled all across the world. He has seen people of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Never has he seen anyone so breathtaking. 

From her hair, an otherworldly silver-gold color done up in an intricate braid with a few curly strands falling on each side of her heart shaped face, framing it. 

To her well manicured eyebrows sit right under her forehead, a dainty nose bracketed by high cheekbones and plump pink lips that finish off her look. She is a vision. Inhumanly beautiful. 

But her face itself isn’t what he thinks is her most beautiful feature. 

It’s her eyes. 

They are a color he has seen before but he can’t quite think of it at the moment. 

They are a light, almost pale, violet color.

So expressive that he doesn’t need magic to read the emotions she is displaying. She is like an open book. So easy to read. Even as she keeps her face stone still. 

Her eyes give all of her secrets away. 

Before he can reveal those secrets though, he sees the person slightly behind her shift slightly in his peripheral. Pulling his attention away. 

He looks at the man and he can barely stop the smile that is attempting to force its way to his face. 

Ser Barristan the Bold. 

His old mentor.

A man who was his second favorite Kingsguard as a child, behind his Uncle. 

A legend.

For both his skill with a blade and his valor as a knight.

A friend.

For being the man that took a bastard boy of 10 namedays under his wing and teaching him how to be a man and knight of integrity. 

The man that knighted him at 13 for his actions in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Actions that he would not have had the courage nor the skills to accomplish had it not been for the knight before him. 

Looking into the light blue eyes of his old friend he sees that they are a little moist. No doubt he, like everyone else in Westeros, thought Rhevan dead for the last four years. Only to find out he is still alive, moments ago when Varys told them. 

He’ll have to catch up with the old knight after he finishes with his more urgent business. Speaking of…

His eyes continue moving as he examines the next two people in his vision. 

The Greyjoys. 

Yara Greyjoy locked eyes with him. Strong and unyielding. She looked as though she was challenging him to some sort of battle he had no idea he was involved in. 

Theon Greyjoy tried to look him in the eyes for only a moment before he put his head down and folded in on himself. Like a cowering animal, hoping against hope that the larger predator won’t see him and eat him alive. 

Quite the contrast. 

He doesn’t think about it long before his eyes settle on the last of the people that occupy the chamber.

The moment his eyes lock with Ellaria Sands he knows the truth. 

He doesn’t have to dig into her mind to know.

The pure fear on her face says it all. 

He knows she did it.

She killed Doran Martell. 

And it absolutely infuriated him. 

It’s been a long time since he has felt this kind of pure anger. 

Like molten lava replaced the blood in his veins. Pumping unadulterated rage through is heart and brain. 

He can hardly think. 

All he wants to do is tear her limb from limb while she begs for mercy. Mercy she would not receive. 

Yes that sounded like a marvelous idea. 

In fact he should do that right n-

“Your Grace.” He hears Varys say and it snaps him out of his fury-clouded thoughts. 

He turns his eyes back to the Dragon Queen as Varys begins his introduction. 

“May I introduce, Ser Rhevan Dayne. The Sword of the Morning. The new ruling Prince of Dorne.” He finishes. 

The moment he does, the queen’s eyes move from the spider back to him. 

In that moment their eyes lock once again. 

In that moment he begins reading the book of expressiveness that is Daenerys Targaryen. 

Interestingly enough, her emotions have changed a bit. 

Before, she was just curious. No doubt measuring him. Trying to see what kind of man he is. 

Now. There is a different emotion in those eyes. 

Something darker. Something heavier. Something hotter.

Something he can recognize easily. For she is not the first woman to pin him with such a look. Not by a long shot.

She is looking at him with pure lust. 

If he was only half interested in her before, she now has his full undivided attention. 

She looks as though she wants to speak before the beautiful woman beside her takes a step forward and begins. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains." She states proudly. As though she were speaking of her own name. 

_“Damn that’s a lot of titles.”_ He thinks to himself before, opening his mouth and speaking for the first time. 

“A pleasure, Your Grace.” He greets her simply. With a slight bow of his head. Eyes never leaving hers. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Prince Rhevan.” She responds, causing his eyebrow to raise a bit at her use of his new title. Her voice is powerful just like the rest of her. An authoritative edge to it. But still soft and feminine. 

A short gasp of shock was heard to his right, snapping him out of whatever trance the mother of dragons put him under. 

He looks to the voice and sees Ellaria and her brood looking at the Queen with betrayal in their eyes. 

He’s happy they made a sound. It reminded him of what it was he was supposed to be doing here. Of his top priority. 

Justice for the Martells. 

He can ogle the Dragon Queen later. Now it was time for action. 

His goal was to have the sand snakes brought back to Dorne to answer for their crimes in front of all the high lords of Dorne. 

He isn’t a fool though. He knows they won’t just agree to follow him. Blood will shed. 

He can’t wait. 

“My Queen thi-“ Ellaria begins but stops as she sees him headed toward her. Her body, along with the rest of her traitorous band of bitches, tense up tightly. Ready to strike him at any moment. 

He stops right in front of her and looks her straight in the eyes. Only one question burning at the tip of his tongue. 

“Why?” He says in a near whisper. But it is completely silent in the chamber so he has no doubt everyone heard him clearly. 

And yet..

“What?” The fool closest to him asks dumbly. As though the three letter word he spoke to her was said in some obscure language that she couldn’t comprehend.

“Why. did. you. kill. him?” This time he speaks louder, breaking every word apart just to make sure she can fully understand him. He doesn’t give her the chance to answer this time though.

“Did he not show all of you love? Did he not treat all of you as though you were his own blood? Disregarding your bastard blood and acted as though you were his true born nieces? As though you were truly his good sister?” He continues, more ranting now than looking for an actual explanation. 

“He gave you shelter when he didn’t have to, made sure you would never go hungry, made sure you were always protected from the dangers of the world. Something that very few others would have done for their brother’s bastards.” Now looking at each of the sand snakes, none of them making eye contact with him. All three of their heads down as if ashamed of their actions. 

It’s too late to be ashamed. 

“He gave you a home filled with love, laughter and family. And how do you repay him? By murdering him and his son?” Heavy emotion coloring his words. 

“He was weak. The Lannisters ordered their dog to murder his sister and her children and what does he do? Let his son marry their little whore. And then their dog murders his brother, my love, and still he sat in his chair did nothing.” Ellaria spat out with enough venom to kill a hundred war elephants. 

“They even had the audacity to sneak into Sunspear, killing good loyal men along the way, in order to get the little blonde bitch out of Dorne. And what does he do in retaliation? Nothing.” She continues finding her resolve. 

“Doran was weak. He would have let them get away with coming to Dorne and spilling more of the blood of our brethren in order to stay friendly with the monsters that cause our family such heartache.” Nymeria cuts in. She continues, trying to appeal to him. 

“They killed my father. Surely you of all people understand Rhevan. Elia was like a mother to you and Rhaenys was-“ He cuts her off. Tired of listening to their flimsy justifications. 

“Enough! Oberyn died because of his own actions. No one forced him to fight the mountain. He chose to. He knew the consequences and went along with it anyway and it cost him his life. I understand. Oberyn’s death caused you all great pain. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it’s no excuse.” He barks strongly, blood boiling as he reaches his breaking point. He takes a deep breath trying to calm down as he begins to speak his final piece. 

“Oberyn died trying to avenge his sisters murder. And how do you honor him? How do you make sure your father and lover’s legacy lives on? By killing his brother. In what kind of fucked up twisted way do you try to justify that? Saying he was weak? He was a coward? No. I will not accept your weak excuses. You will come with me back to Dorne where you will be put on trial for the murder of your liege lord.” He announces to them. He knows the sand snakes though. They won’t listen.

This will only end one way. 

“And what if we refuse.” Obara states. Spear clenched tightly in her hands. Body coiled and ready to strike. 

“It wasn’t a request. You will be returning to Dorne. What condition you will be in upon your arrival is entirely up to you.” He responds, tone resolute. Eyes hard and unwavering but his body relaxed and ready.

A heavy, leading silence joined the already charged atmosphere of the room. 

A moment passed. 

Then another. 

Another.

Then suddenly, as if a horn blew propelling them into action, everyone begins to move. 

As swift as a viper strike Ellaria grips the dagger at her hip with her left hand, as she pulls it from its sheath Rhevan's own left hand quickly covers hers, while his right hand snaps forward and grips the back of her head. 

In one harsh motion he pushes her head down with all his might and smashes her face against the hard wood of the painted table. A loud crunch is heard throughout the room as her nose gives way. 

Right after the fierce blow, he let’s go of the back of her head then gives her left wrist a sharp twist snapping it causing her to drop the dagger in her hand. He quickly snatches the dagger as it leaves her grip with his right hand before forcing her left hand on the table palm down and pinning it there with her own blade. Dug in so deeply that the hilt of the knife is nearly touching the back of her hand. 

He immediately switches his focus to the eldest sand snake as she steps toward him thrusting her spear forward attempting to carve his heart out. He turns his body fully in her direction, at the same time, partially pulling Dawn from its sheath just enough to parry the deadly sharp point. 

Once again in one brutally efficient motion, the Demon of Dorne’s left hand lets go of Dawn, letting the beautiful milk glass blade slide back into his sheath, he uses his now free hand to grabs the shaft of the spear pulling it toward him along with Obara while his right arm moving behind his back and he unsheathes his own dagger. 

It’s hilt a shiny silver and it’s pommel shaped in the head of a dragon with rubies for eyes. The blade itself is as dark as smoke with distinctive ripple patterns all throughout it. 

As Obara draws closer she pulls her own dagger and swings it forward only to be easily countered by Rhevan. He then sends a devastating knee straight into her sternum. Buckling the viper’s eldest child, he then turns his dagger reverse grip and jams it into the back of her right thigh causing her to scream in agony. But he’s not done. He flips the spear, still in his left hand, and thrusts it into her left leg dropping her instantly. Her legs, no longer of use.

Not even a split second later he hears something cutting through the air heading towards him. He quickly raises his left arm to defend himself as the whip that was going for his neck tightly coils around his forearm instead. His leather gauntlet stopping the hard rope of the whip from shredding his skin. Nymeria pulling on it hard trying to keep him in place. 

His eyes are on her but his focus is not, as he sees Tyene rushing him from the corner of his eye. He watches her move in on him, dagger ready to pierce through his neck. He waits for the right moment before pulling hard on the whip, causing Nymeria to stumble a bit, moving the rope right into the path of Tyene’s blade. The youngest sand snake cuts straight through her sister's whip, freeing Rhevans arm. 

Acting fast, Rhevan grabs Tyene outstretched right wrist with his right hand, keeping it straighten, before he takes his left palm and swings it upward with as much force as he can right into the elbow of the young woman snapping her arm in two. 

Tyene barely makes a sound. Eyes widen in shock. Her mind not having truly processed the fact that her arm is now mangled. He doesn’t give her mind the chance to do so as he pulls his left leg back before bringing it forward and delivering a punishing kick into her right knee. Buckling it inward, snapping her leg like a twig.

As she crumbles to the ground, wailing loudly, his eyes turn to the final standing traitor. In three quick strides he is right in her face ready to drop her as he did to the rest of them before she yells out.

“Wait! Wait! Rhevan I surrender!” Drooping what’s left of her whip, throwing her hands up in the air, and shutting her eyes tightly. Hoping he doesn’t demolish her as he did the rest of her co-conspirators.

He doesn’t. 

He stops in front of her looking at her face waiting for her to open her eyes, which she does after a while, realizing he isn’t going to hit her. 

They lock eyes for a few moments before Rhevan turns his back to her to look at the rest of the traitors. 

Ellaria still unconscious, face bloodied, body slumped on the ground at an awkward angle because her left hand is still pinned to the painted table. 

Obara on the ground close by groaning and twitching, as if trying to move but being unable to do so. Suffering from some sort of paralysis, no doubt from whatever poison she puts on her spear. A spear that is currently deeply embedded in her left thigh. 

Tyene lays not far from her paralyzed sister. Her eyes open but blank. In a catatonic state of shock from having both her right arm and leg broken successively. 

He thought for a moment that maybe he should feel bad. These are women he grew up with. He loved and cherished at one point in time. He should perhaps feel remorse or guilt for brutalizing them in such a way. 

But then he thinks about what they did to Doran and Trystane. 

Killing them in cold blood. Their own family. 

No, they don’t deserve remorse. 

In fact they deserve far worse than the damage he dealt them.

He looks toward the front of the table and sees Ser Barristan has his sword and ready, holding it in front of himself and his Queen. His eyes not on Rhevan but on the downed Sands as if waiting for them to make some sort of miraculous recovery and suddenly attack. 

Looking at the Queen, her eyes already on him so they connect immediately. Her position shifted, so a stream of light from the midday sun is now shining directly on her face, illuminating her irises. They are doubtlessly the most captivating sight he had ever seen. It is in that moment he remembers where he has seen that color before. 

It is the color of the background that holds the white sword and falling star of House Dayne. 

Lilac. 

The color of his house. 

As he stares deeply into her eyes, mesmerized by the sight of them, he feels a plethora of different emotions swimming in within them. 

There are so many it’s hard to tell them apart from one other. He catches a few though. 

Shock and awe, which does wonders for his ego. Being able to invoke such emotions from a woman with three very large dragons is quite the feat. 

Worry and Relief, which amuses him to no end. It seems the Dragon Queen didn’t know if he’d be able to win but was happy he did. 

Lust and desire, which causes a slight stir in his loins. It’s the second such time he’s felt that type of emotion coming from her. He may have to do something about that.

Before he can get a feel for any of the other emotions he sees swimming around in her enthralling gaze. A different emotion takes over all of her features. 

Fear. 

Not of him. 

But for him. 

As her gaze shifts sight behind him, she looks as though she is ready to yell out a warning to him but her words are stuck in her throat. 

Her fear, while appreciated, is unnecessary though for he knows what is threatening to end him from behind. Or rather who.

Nymeria. 

He knew her surrender was a ruse. He has known her and the others for most of his life. He knows that the sand snakes do not simply give up. They let you believe they did, so you can lower your guard, then they strike. He expected this. This is exactly what he wanted. It would be much easier to get them all to Dorne if they are incapacitated. Less likely for some of the shiphands to end up as casualties. 

He felt her swift behind him and knew she was beginning her attack. She takes a light step forward and lunges at him, dagger in hand aimed for his spine. At the last moment he pivots on his right foot, turning his body around to face her, at the same time dodging the blade. Cocking his left fist back, he uses the momentum of his pirouette to put as much force as he can into his left hand as he swings it forward and cracks her right in the face. 

His knuckles on her jaw, he can feel it give away and shatter under the pressure of his blow. 

She crumps to the floor immediately. As if a mummer’s puppet whose strings were cut. Incapacitated. Just like the rest of her little group. 

It is only a moment later that the doors slam open and Andrey and Daemon come flying in, swords in hand. Looking ready to fight their way out of the castle itself before their eyes land on him. Then they look down at the four Sands laid out around him. Then to all the other occupants in the room. 

They pause for a moment and look to one another. No sure what to make of the sight before them. 

So Rhevan decides to break the silence. 

“You’re late.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we back. What's popping people. I know I know. I said that it would be a few weeks before a new chapter dropped and I meant that at the time. Butttt...I just couldn't help myself. Brain kept making up things and my fingers kept typing them down. So, here we are. 
> 
> I just want to say thank you all and I love everybody that left me kudos and bookmarks and left me comments and just read my story in general. 
> 
> Pretty much everybody. I love all of yall.
> 
> Anyways leave a comment let me know what you think. 
> 
> Next chapter is probably going to come out in a few weeks. 
> 
> Forreal this time...
> 
> Maybe. 
> 
> Love y'all 
> 
> Peace.


	3. Plans and Perspective

# A Dragon's Wish

### Chapter 3: Plans and Perspective

Conflicted. 

If Tyrion Lannister was asked to sum up how he feels at the moment, that is the answer he would give. As he is watching the barely responsive Sands be tied up and carried away from the chamber. 

He had no love for the Dornish women. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he hates them for what they did to his beloved niece. 

Watching them get brutally dismantled was like a dream come true for him. He should be overjoyed that they finally got what they deserved. 

But he wasn’t. 

And the reason is the very man that did the dismantling. 

Ser Rhevan Dayne

‘ _Prince Rhevan Dayne’_ He reminds himself, as he looks at the dangerous dornishman that is walking back toward the table. He seems to have just finished giving instructions to his two companions that came storming into the room. 

He knows The Sword of the Morning. Everyone does. He even met the man a few times, when he went to the capital to visit his beloved brother Jaime and his dear psychotic sister. 

He was younger then. A squire for the legendary knight standing next to his Queen. Tyrion liked him well enough. 

A bit sad and much too serious for someone that young, but what can one expect from a young man that lost everything in such a short time.

A prodigy with a blade. The youngest son of Tywin thought the boy would end up being a good knight. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d join the Kingsgaurd and follow in the footsteps of his renowned uncle. 

He never could’ve imagined that the somber young boy would end up as the powerful prince that stands before him. 

He was a mystery. That is what has Tyrion worried. 

While he loathed the Sand Snakes, they were predictable. 

He knew what they wanted and while they were a wild bunch, they were easy to control. Not to mention they were loyal to Her Grace.

Now that they have been deposed, for killing their own kin no less, and have been replaced by an unknown he can’t help but feel apprehensive. 

“I apologize for the chaos. I had hoped that Ellaria and her brood would come without violence but, I suppose that was folly.” Speaks the voice of the man on his mind, pulling him back to reality. 

“It is quite alright. In fact, I feel it is I who should be apologizing. Had I known of their crimes, I would’ve had them arrested and sent back to Dorne to face judgment myself.” His Queen responds, her eyes cutting to Varys halfway through. She continues, now speaking directly to her spymaster. 

“How is it that I did not know of our former allies' heinous transgressions Lord Varys? Is it not your job as my spymaster to know secrets of this magnitude and inform me?” She asks, glaring in his direction.

Tyrion had to admit he was curious about this as well. They could lose an important ally, an entire Kingdom, because of this folly. Something they can’t afford if they wish to win this war without having to resort to using the dragons. 

“I beg your forgiveness. Doran Martell was a very smart man, my Queen. While I could get my little birds in Sunspear, any that tried to get within the Old Palace were found and removed.” The Spider begins, head bowed in submission. 

“Ellaria Sand and her co-conspirators were quite thorough in making sure Prince Doran’s true fate was not discovered.” He finishes. The Lannister supposes that that does make sense though it doesn’t really help them now. 

“I can confirm his words, your Grace. Doran often warned me to watch my words around children I didn’t know. ‘You never know when the spider's little creatures are listening.’ He’d say.” Their guest vouches for his friend.

“I suppose that is fair. Though I ask that you make sure that we are not surprised by anything of this importance again. Or else I may have to find a new Master of Whispers.” Daenerys lightly threatens. Varys simply nodded his head in response.

Tyrion feels like now is the time to address the predominant issue at hand. 

“An unfortunate situation that, as my queen just said, had we known the truth of we would’ve handled swiftly and justly. I hope this does not sour the relationship between us and your people.” He says to the new Prince leadingly, hoping their alliance can continue. 

He doesn’t respond to the Hand of the Queen choosing instead turn his attention to Daenerys herself. 

He walks towards her slowly, paying no mind to the way Grey Worm shifts into a more aggressive stance. Instead deciding to focus fully on the young Queen in front of him. 

As he reaches her, stopping directly right in front of her barely a foot apart, his eyes leave hers and goes to the old knight next to his right. A smile, the first Tyrion has seen from him, stretches beautifully across his face.

“Ser Barristan the bold, it's great to see you in good shape, old friend. The years have been good to you it seems. You don’t look a day over 40.” He jests, again, for the first time since his arrival. Getting a hearty chuckle from the aged knight. 

‘ _A little too hard. An inside joke perhaps?’_ Tyrion thinks to himself, listening closely to the conversation. This is the happiest he has seen their new acquaintance. Hopefully this can lead to something. An alliance preferably. 

“My bones would disagree with you, my prince. It does this old man good to see you alive and well though truly. I was deeply saddened when I got word of your disappearance and assumed death.” The knight responds, a happy smile on his face. 

“Well I couldn’t just go and die in some foreign land now could I. There is still too much left for me to do. I have yet to even catch up to your lengthy list of accomplishments. I did tell you I’d go down as the greatest knight to ever live, did I not? I can’t die yet.” Responded the golden eyed liege of Dorne. 

“You have long since surpassed me in both skill and prestige my friend, your only competition for that title is dead men.” Barristan humbly replies. Prompting an eye roll and a chuckle from his former squire. 

“I see you are still as humble as always my old friend.” He states before his smiling face switches to a more serious look.

It seems their joyful reunion is at an end. He glances to Daenerys for a moment before looking back at the old legend and speaking.

“I remember when I was a boy, I asked you what your dream was. That if you could have one thing, do one thing what would it be? Do you remember your answer?” He asks, though it seems it was a rhetorical question for he continued speaking, eyes not leaving the grizzled veteran.

“You told me, before your time in this world was up, that you wished to serve a ruler you can be proud of. Someone noble, just, and good. A ruler you can protect with pride knowing they are doing right by the people that are under their protection.” He pauses. If possible, looking even deeper into the venerable warrior’s eyes.

“Have you found that ruler?” He questions. 

All eyes looking to the knight seemingly understanding the importance of his response. 

Barristan doesn’t answer right away. Instead he breaks eye contact with his former protege in favor of looking directly into the eyes of his Queen. He looks closely as if searching for something in particular, in the beautiful lilac orbs of the women he serves. 

She looks back. Face emotionless but her expressive eyes are showing something else. 

Suddenly, a smile crosses the face of the aged man and he looks back to the Prince, eyes filled with certainty. Voice filled with conviction as he speaks his answer. 

“Yes. Yes I have.” He states, with not a shred of doubt in his tone. His words are few, but their impact strong. For the moment he finishes, the tension that built in the chamber snapped. 

The Prince stares at the knight longer, as if looking for any iota of uncertainty. Seeing none he nods his head before looking to the Queen and speaking.

“There is not a person alive whose opinion I value more than that of Barristan Selmy. He took a cocky little boy that thought himself a man under his wing and turned me into a man. I would not be standing here before you today if not for his guidance.” He declares, voice strong but filled lightly with emotion. 

He then slowly goes down to one knee. Getting a small gasp from the young Queen. 

“If he says you are a worthy ruler. The worthy ruler he has been looking to serve for his entire life, then I will take his word to heart. We will help you defeat Lannisters and get regain what rightfully belongs to House Targaryen. Dorne and her spears will remain yours, My Queen.” He declares, looking into the eyes his new liege. A small smile on his face. His Queen smiles back while replying. 

“I accept your fealty, Prince Rhevan. I will do everything I can to live up to the high praise of my dear knight.” She says as she looks to her Lord Commander, appreciation and affection shining clearly in her slightly misty gaze. 

“Of that I have no doubt my queen.” He responds before standing up.

Relief. 

That’s all Tyrion can feel right now. He can’t stop the smile that stretches across his face. He makes eye contact with his packageless friend across the room, and sees a light smile on his face as well. 

This was truly a great win for their cause. Not only do they retain Dorne but they also get The Sword of the Morning on their side as well. Things couldn’t have gone bett-

“Yes, this is all very touching really, if I still had teeth I’m sure they would be rotten by now, with all this sweetness. But I have lost them, and I will soon lose my ability to walk as well if I stay sitting in this damned chair much longer. So are we done here?” The ever snappy Olenna Tyrell interrupts impatiently.

“Yes, I believe we were in the middle of finishing up our plans of attack. Lord Tyrion if you would repeat your plan for our new ally.” Daenerys says after clearing her throat, cheeks a bit red from the chastising by the elderly woman. 

“Of course…” 

As Tyrion is reiterating his plan he notices a slight frown on the face of the Prince. 

As he finishes up, he has a feeling their new ally disagrees.

“Do we have your support?” Daenerys asks, looking to all her allies. 

“As I was saying before. You have mine.” Yara Greyjoy confirms. She and her shaking brother were quiet the longest, only watching. Apparently feeling no need to insert themselves into something that doesn’t concern them. Opting to obverse instead. After her words though. 

There is silence. 

Tyrion looks to Lady Olenna only to see the aged woman’s eyes on the Dornish Prince. 

When he looks to the Prince. The man gives his answer. 

“It is a good plan Lord Tyrion, but it is flawed. It’s too easy to outmaneuver and doesn’t account for certain variables.” He asserts, eyes locked on the painted table. 

Tyrion was taken aback. He happens to think his plan is quite clever. 

“I assure you, my Prince. I have accounted for all possibilities and variables. This plan is foolproof and will minimize losses on our side while also ending this war quickly and efficiently.” The imp states proudly, he knows how good this plan is. He is the one that came up with it after all. 

He looks to his Queen for support only to find her attention is solely on the Prince.

“I have to disagree, My Lord.” He responds, and now Tyrion is getting a bit annoyed. He knows this plan will work. 

The Prince looks ready to say more but Tyrion cuts him off. 

“Well your disagreement is heard and noted but it is the plan. Now-“ before he can finish he is cut off himself by the Mourning Star. Whose face now shows his annoyance. 

“Tell me Lannister. How many wars have you fought? How many battles have you planned?” He questions, haunting gold eyes staring into said Lannister’s eyes making him feel a bit apprehensive as he answers.

“Well, I planned the defense of King's Landing. I saved everyone in the city from Stannis’ army at the Blackwater. I-“ He begins to counter before he is cut off once again. This time by the Queen of Thorns. 

“Oh please. Is that what you have been telling people?” The Lady begins, rolling her eyes, voice derisive in tone. 

“Your little wildfire trick may have brought you more time but from what I recall, the city would have fallen had The Reach and Westerland Armies not shown up.” She finishes, looking at the small man as if waiting for him to contradict her words.

“Yes well, my ‘little trick’ saved a lot of li-“ He is interrupted once again by the old woman. It seems she is through listening to him talk. 

“Yes yes yes. That’s all well and good but the fact remains, you would have lost the capital to Stannis had we not arrived when we did. Now, I have heard you boast about nothing long enough. You do not have my vote for this plan of yours. Prince Rhevan I’m sure you have a plan of your own, I would like to hear it. Unlike our Lord Hand here, you have planned multiple campaigns and actually won.” She proclaims, moving her eyes to the Prince awaiting his response. 

“Thank you lady Olenna. If I may?” He asks, looking to Daenerys for permission to give his own strategy. When she nods he begins. 

“Well, first of all. Focusing our attention on Casterly Rock is pointless.” He starts but immediately Tyrion cuts in.

“The Rock is the seat of power for House Lannister it is n-“ For a third time he is cut off this time by the Prince once more and he seems fed up with Tyrion’s continued interruptions. 

“The Iron Throne is the current seat of power for House Lannister. Do not interrupt me again Lord Hand. I allowed you to finish your plan. I expect the same courtesy.” He declares strongly. Daring Tyrion to speak out again. Which he gets ready to do so but Daenerys speaks instead. 

“Do not worry. There will be no more interruptions. Please continue.” She says, eyes on her Hand looking at him sternly. 

“As I was saying, The Iron Throne is the seat of power for House Lannister and King’s Landing it’s holding. The only important thing in the Westerlands is it’s army. They will no doubt move toward King’s Landing as soon as possible. To provide added protection. Now, your plans for besieging the Capital are good and I agree with them. But we can’t only focus on offense. We must sure-up our defenses first and foremost.” The Prince continues, he moves toward the table and picks up the Unsullied war piece playing with it as he continues his explanation. 

“Dragonstone is untouchable. Not only can it only be attacked by sea, something that we would see coming easily, but there are also three very large dragons here that will destroy any enemy fleet that gets anywhere close.” He continues, his eyes now on the Painted Table looking towards the south of it.

“Which means they will have to focus their offensive elsewhere. That elsewhere will have to be somewhere inland, accessible and important. There is nowhere that fits that description better than the heart of The Reach. Highgarden.” He states, finger on the point where Highgarden is on the table but eyes now locked with the Queen’s. 

“Not only is it the home of the Lord Paramount of The Reach but, and correct me if I’m wrong Lady Olenna, it holds the largest collection of wealth and food in all of Westeros at one singular point.” He pauses waiting for the elderly lady to respond. Though his eyes are still on the Queen.

“You are correct. In fact, we were supplying Kings Landing with most of its food. Half a million people live in that city. Half a million mouths to feed.” She answers, smirk on her face as she looks at Tyrion smugly. 

“Indeed. When the smallfolk start to starve, they will turn to the Red Keep in desperation. And when Cersei can’t provide, they’ll begin to revolt, something she can’t afford. She and her commanders know this, which means Highgarden is top priority for the Iron Throne.” He begins playing with the unsullied war piece again as his eyes turn to Grey Worm.

“So we will need to make sure Highgarden is secure and protected. That is why the Unsullied will accompany Lady Olenna on her journey back home. While the unsullied are fierce attackers, their true strength lies in their defensive capabilities. There is none better in the entire world at protecting a single point than the unsullied.” He states putting the unsullied war piece down on Highgarden. 

“Now Lord Tyrion, I understand that you want to use the iron born fleet to escort the Dornish army to King's Landing for the siege. The problem with that is, Euron Greyjoy lurking out there somewhere and we don’t know his exact location.” He begins the next phase of his plan before he is cut off again this time by an offended looking Yara. 

“I’m not afraid of Euron. If he shows himself, We’ll sink his fleet and I’ll take his head personally.” The Greyjoy woman boldly proclaims, earning a scoff from the dornishman. 

“While I certainly can appreciate your confidence Lady Greyjoy. Crow’s eye is considered the greatest sailor in the fourteen seas. That is not a title he bestowed upon himself. It was earned. Caution is the only approach that should be taken when dealing with an enemy of that kind of renown.” He tells the Ironborn woman. Though she doesn’t look happy she nods her head and seems to concede the point for now and allows him to continue. 

“So, we will need to be smart about this. Even though I don’t see a maester here, I assume the rookery is still available for use?” He asks the Spymaster, getting a nod in return.

“Good, I’ll send word to Sunspear telling them to begin moving the army towards Yronwood and up the Boneway into the Stormlands. It’ll be a longer way around but it will be safer.” He takes sun-shaped war pieces that represent his forces and moves them down there. With the short pause in his speaking, Tyrion decides to make his thoughts known. 

“The Marcher Lords of the Stormlands won’t just allow you to pass up that way with no resistance. They will bleed your army the entire way and attempt to block your way through. It could take two, maybe even more, moons to get through them. By that time the war will be over. That is why I decided that passing by sea was not only faster but safer as well. Euron Greyjoy may be a good sailor but he is no god. He can’t be everywhere at once. I know my sister, she is paranoid. She will want to keep him close in case we try to attack her by sea and make sure he doesn’t betray her. Giving us a chance to ferry your army over and begin the siege quickly.” He attempts to sway everyone back to his side. But it seems to have little effect as Prince Rhevan counters his words. 

“I can’t pretend to know Cersei Lannister’s mind as well as you do Lord Tyrion. But from what I do remember of the infrequent interactions we did have, she is no fool. She has brilliant military minds surrounding her, like Randyll Tarly, your brother Jaime and Euron himself. I’m sure she will allow them to do what they do best, and let them win this war for her. They are who I’m planning against and for, not your sister.” He answers, silencing the halfman of Casterly Rock. 

“And for the Marchers Lords, I agree they could be a problem. Unless we deal with them first. Which we will. By bringing the Stormlands over to our side.” He explains, before pausing and looking to the Hand of the Queen. As if waiting for him to interject. Tyrion, not one to miss a chance to speak his mind, does so. 

“That would be a waste of time and resources. The Stormlands are broken and weak from the War of Five Kings. Not to mention, Stannis’ excursion in the North. They can barely field 5,000 men and most of them green boys and old, past their prime, men. Also, I feel I should mention because it seems you have forgotten, the Stormlords call the Baratheon’s their liege. They fought against the crown in Robert’s Rebellion and I highly doubt they will follow a Targaryen now. They will only bow to a stag.” He makes his point. Poking holes in the Dornish Prince’s plan just as he did to Tyrion’s. 

Call him petty, he cares not. 

“Yes I hear your points Lord Tyrion. But you seem to misunderstand, bringing the Stormlands to our side isn’t about their men. It’s about the optics. Regardless of how weak they are now, The Stormlands are still one of the seven kingdoms. They still hold power in the minds of people in Westeros adding them to our side would help legitimize our Queen’s claim further.” He starts, and before Tyrion can point out that Rhevan didn’t really counter any of the points he made, the Prince continues.

“Now I agree that the Stormlords will only bow to a Baratheon, unfortunately there are none left. Well no legitimate ones at least. Robert Baratheon was as legendary in his whoremongering as he was with his hammer. I know Cersei had his bastards in King’s Landing killed but she didn’t get the ones in other kingdoms. More specifically she didn’t get the one in Storm’s End. Edric Storm.” He states, shocking the imp. 

Tyrion knows of Edric Storm, the young royal bastard conceived on the wedding night of Stannis and Selyse, in their bed, by Robert and Selyse’s cousin Delena Florent. It was quite the scandal. 

As Delena was a noblewoman, Edric was acknowledged by his father. He was raised in Storm's End under the guardianship of Renly Baratheon. Most importantly, he was out of the eye and reach of Cersei Lannister. 

“How do you know the boy still lives?” Tyrion couldn’t help but ask. He had no idea what happened with the boy after everything went to shit when Robert died. He had more important things to worry about than a bastard boy.

“The Fowler twins of Skyreach are quite the information merchants. They filled me in on all the happenings with the important families in Westeros for the past four years. They told me the boy was sent to hiding by the castellan of Storm’s End to protect him from Stannis’ red witch. He returned sometime a few years ago and from what I understand is being groomed as the next Lord of the Stormlands. Though it would be best if you can confirm this for me Lord Varys.” He finishes looking to the Spider, who gives him a nod and quick “Of course.”

“Good, so continuing on as if the boy is there. We will still need to get him to bend the knee and swear the Stormlands to us. That is where you come in My Queen.” He begins, walking around the table grabbing the dragon piece and looking at Daenerys.

“While sailing all the way to Dorne is dangerous, sailing to Storm’s End should be much safer. Especially if we have a dragon with us for back up.” He explains, and immediately Tyrion catches on to his plan and of course he disagrees. 

“You mean to have our Queen sail to Storm’s End with her dragon? Are you mad? That’s far too dangerous, all it would take is one lucky arrow and it’s over. The entire war is lost. And what happens if they see the dragon and don’t bend the knee? Will you have her burn Storm’s End to the ground? Kill everyone in the castle? How would you even convince them to bend? Legitimizing the Storm boy? The son of the man that took her family's throne? This is foolish. Surely you see that your grace.” He rants, eyes moving from the crazy prince to his queen hoping to get her agreement but once again her eyes are only on the mad dornishman. But she does give a response. 

“My Hand has a point Prince Rhevan, your plan has merit but this part of it would put me and my goal at risk for little reward. Also, Why should I even consider legitimizing the Usurper’s spawn? Let alone keep his castle after everything his father has done.” She says, looking at the Prince waiting for his response. 

“The reward is not little. The both of you are dismissing the power of the Stormlands too easily. If we get them on our side that gives you another kingdom. Which like I said earlier helps with your cause in the eyes of the lords of Westeros. Also to be frank, you of all people should be the last person to judge another by the actions of their father Daenerys Targaryen. Or do you need to be reminded of the type of monster your own sire was?” He challenges, eyes narrowing. Tyrion can see the anger starting to build in the eyes of his Queen before it goes away and is replaced by shame after hearing his last words. The Prince doesn’t wait for a response. 

“Edric Storm is not Robert and even if he is a drunken fool like his father, it doesn’t matter. His blood is all that matters. He is Robert’s son and he has lived in the Stormlands his whole life, the Stormlords will follow him.” He finishes looking at Daenerys, who nods and motions for him to continue.

“Now, the reason you must go yourself and with your dragon is twofold. First, you must legitimize him personally and name him your Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, to let all the others Lords of Westeros know that you don’t hold grudges against anyone for the actions of the past. If you can forgive the Baratheons for their crimes against your House, they will believe you can forgive anyone. That may be the push some of the Lords that are still undecided need to get them on our side.” He walks toward the carving of the Stormlands and places the Dragon piece on Storm’s End. 

“Secondly, you need to go with your dragon to let the Lords know that they are real. As of right now most Lords don’t believe that you truly have dragons. They think it only a myth told to put fear in them to help your cause. They have to see it to believe it. So, you show it to them. Can you ride one of them?” He finishes with a question. 

“Yes, Drogon, he is my largest child. I have ridden him before.” She answers, seemingly much less reluctant than before. 

“Perfect. You show up at Storm’s End atop a dragon and I’m positive their knees will bend. If they do not…” He pauses making sure he is making eye contact with her. 

“You make them.” His words, sending a shock wave through the chambers. Everyone’s eyes go wide and Tyrion knows this is his chance. 

“You would have her burn innocent people. Be labeled mad like her father. You’re insane.” He looks to his Queen and this time it seems he has her agreement. 

“I will not be the Queen of the ashes. I will not give my enemies a reason to name me Mad Queen.” His Queen says resolutely. Tyrion hopes this would get the upstart Prince to back off a bit. But it does not.

It seems to embolden him instead.

“So, what would you rather do if they don’t bend? Siege them? That may take half a year if not longer. And as your Hand has said, we don’t have the time for that. You have three dragons but refuse to use them. That is idiotic. The Kingdom of Westeros was forged by dragon fire. Aegon and his sisters burned Harren the Black and his sons when they refused to bend. They ended the Gardner line when they thought they could face the might of dragons on the open field. Were any of them remembered as mad? No, because they didn’t burn innocent people. They burned their enemies. Those that opposed them and stood in the way of their goals. Fire is a dragon's weapon. How is dying by fire different then dying by a blade? The outcome is the same, you’re still dead.” He answers fiercely. 

“I understand not wanting to burn the Red Keep down. But, you can’t just hold yourself back because you fear people will name you just like Aerys. People are already doing that. And even if you win the Throne without using your dragons, without using fire at all. Even if you become the greatest Queen in history. Some people will still call you Aerys reborn or Mad Queen. It’s unavoidable. You won’t be loved by everyone, it’s not possible. I’m sure even Jaehaerys The Conciliator had his detractors. It’s unavoidable. Some people will hate you no matter what, because that’s just how they are. You can’t change that. You can’t control that. What you can control is the amount of lives saved by ending this war as quickly as possible. Lives of the people that do believe in you. And to do that you need the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros on your side. One of which is The Stormlands.” He closes his eyes taking a deep breath at the same time. 

“This is only hypothetical anyway. I’m sure that once they see your dragon the boy will bend the knee. You legitimize him. Then you can return here to safety. No problems. I’ll travel with you to the Stormlands if that will help. I will need to make sure the army makes it through the Boneway anyway. And give them further instructions for the siege of King's Landing. Also I still have to deal with Ellaria and her brood. They’ll come too, their fate will be decided when I meet with my army.” He states, though he seems to be more talking to himself towards the end. 

“Anyway, with the Stormlands, Dorne, and The Reach on your side. Plus proving to the rest of Westeros that your dragons are indeed very real and very large, that should be enough to pull the more on the fence lords to our side. And once the Lords with a more fragile allegiance to Cersei realize she is on the losing side they will flock under the Targaryen banner. Leaving her with few friends and fewer options. Making victory inevitable. Once Cersei realizes she has lost. Either because her allies have abandoned her or the smallfolk of King’s Landing revolt. She will look to flee. If she tries by sea, we have the Iron Fleet lurking. If she tries by land, it will be to Casterly Rock. A place you know the secret entrance to, Lord Hand, so we can attack it and her at our leisure.” He says finally seeming to have finished up his plan. 

Tyrion had to admit. He had a point. As much as it pains him. His plan was good. Better than Tyrion’s own. 

He wanted to dislike the Dornishman. 

Inhumanly handsome, tall, strong, a great fighter. Surely something must be wrong with him. He must be slow of wit. Nobody can be this perfect. 

He was wrong. 

Apparently this man is perfect. 

‘ _Well maybe he has a little cock. He has to have some flaw.”_ Tyrion thinks only half serious. While he is contemplating the Prince’s manhood. Said Prince ends his long-winded plan.

“Well, that is the broad overview of the plan. We can go more into the logistics of it all later if you all wish. What do you all say?” He asks, looking at everyone in the chamber. 

“You have my support, this is certainly a better plan then that clever little scheme the imp tried to make.” Lady Olenna gives her approval first. Taking a shot at the little Lannister Lion. Which seems to have become her new favorite pastime. 

“Aye you have mine as well, though I don’t appreciate your lack of confidence in my sailing ability.” Yara agrees, her eyes glaring at the Prince. His face remaining neutral. 

“I agree to it. I will go to Storm’s End with Drogon and legitimize the boy. As long as you and your people travel with us.” 

Eyes turn to Tyrion. Awaiting his response, seeing if he has any more petty nitpicky issues with the plan. He doesn’t.

“Alright I suppose it is a solid plan. Though I would like to sit down with you and work out the finer detail of it.” He says, keeping the petulance out of his voice. Though only barely. 

“That is not a problem. I would like to get your opinion on a few things as well. Hopefully we can get this plan fully finished by tomorrow and prepare to put it in action.” The Prince responds with a slight smile on his face. 

Oh. Well, that’s good. 

Tyrion thought he would have no say in the battle plans after his plan was basically pushed off to the side. 

But it seemed that was not the case. The Prince was asking for his help in finalizing it. 

_“Perhaps he isn’t so bad after all.”_ Tyrion thinks before answering. 

“Of course we can meet in my chambers.” 

“Good, I’ll bring the wine.” The Prince responds with a smirk on his face. Speaking Tyrion’s love language.

Getting a big smile in return from the wine connoisseur. 

Oh this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work. I'll be the first to admit. I knew this chapter would be a bit difficult which is why it took so long. I'm by no means a military commander so I can only go off of what I think a good plan would be. I know I might be missing some things. If you see a way you think I can improve it Lmk. Anyway, as always thanks all you guys for the love. Next chapter will come out quick and it will be better I promise.
> 
> If you don't mind, leave a comment. I love reading you guy's thoughts.
> 
> If you want to tell me something personally, send a pm.
> 
> Love yall
> 
> Peace.


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